Harry smiled and took a seat, nodding with a knowing arch of his eyebrows at Kingsley's "normal" crack.
"I know the feeling..." Just as Kinglsey asked him if he'd like a drink, a little bint from the bar came by with his pint, "It's as if you conjured it from thin air," he joked.
Nodding along, Harry knew all the stories. He of course hadn't been a part of the negotiations (yet, he was still young), but from a recruiter's perspective they were nothing but trouble. Harry didn't care what kind of family you came from (then again, if you're a Malfoy he might have to question your taste in hair gelling charms) - Harry only cared if you were good on a broom and not bad in front of the press.
"I was going to run some errands in Diagon but you looked like you could use a familiar face," Harry answered honestly. "At least the rounds of talks will be over soon, yeah? And everyone will probably end up signing the same old contracts and go home to lick their wounds after a few weeks in the ring with you," Harry tried to encourage.
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